


A Wizard Among Mutants

by OmniOstler (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, OmniOstler
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25340752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/OmniOstler
Summary: An upset and lonely Harry Potter is ready for Death to take him onto his next great adventure. He used to be scared but now he's just tired and bored. Being the Master of Death is one of the worst things to happen to him. And that's saying a lot.
Kudos: 18





	A Wizard Among Mutants

Harry Potter used to live in a cupboard under the stairs. He used to cook and clean for rude muggle relatives. He used to go to Hogwarts. He used to go to interviews after defeating the Dark Lord. He used to cook for his wife and kids. He used to visit his wife's grave. He used to visit his children's graves. He used to laugh. He used to do a lot of things when he was Harry Potter who lived at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He didn't anymore. It hurt a bit too much.

Harry had made a grave mistake as a teen and young adult. He had collected all three Hallows. He wishes he hadn't. He also wishes he didn't waste so much time as an Auror. So much time lost with his family. Too much time. Even as the immortal Master of Death, Harry had run out of time.

Things happen, change, and end. Harry never did end.

He finally noticed after ten stubborn years that he wasn't changing. He noticed that young muggle woman and men continually mistook him for a college student and that he never had to pluck out a silver hair or had to shave a beard. He attributed the lack of hair change to ridiculously good genes, and the flirting from young muggles to the growing popularity of dating an older fellow. But that forced blissful ignorance didn't last long. Not when, by the age of thirty-four, he went twelve days without food and felt absolutely fine. Not when, upon closer examination of his years, he realized that he stopped feeling _tired_ ever since he was carried out of the forest where he died.

He noticed that his wife and his children looked more different each day than he did after an entire year.

He assumes he's some sort of inferius at first, but he drops the silly idea as soon as he finds himself with the elder wand in his hand, the invisibility cloak on his back, and the resurrection stone- now on a pendant, the crack miraculously healed and the ring discarded.

* * *

He's lost and he needs answers. In his search for exactly _what_ he is, he travels across Europe. He asks Hermione to help him find dangerous books and information. One night, he breaks down crying over the descriptions of various undead creatures. And then, a new niggling idea rises from the back of his mind. _Ask Dumbledore. Go to him. Not his portrait..._

So Harry picks up his family's cloak, wraps it around his body, and literally disappears into the night. However, before he goes, he feels a burning need to bring the resurrection stone. So he brings it.

And now he regrets it. He regrets it because his cloak is shimmering despite its apparently invisible power. He regrets it because the resurrection stone is sending waves of cold against his chest. He regrets it because there's a small hole in the ground over Dumbledore's grave, and the previously broken, now-whole elder wand is humming against his hand.

And he regrets it because there's a grinning mist that vaguely takes the shape of a human in front of him, telling him that he's the Master of Death. That he's going to become Death in a "couple" millennia.

Why did his family have The Invisibility Cloak? Why did he have to get it passed onto him? He wishes Dumbledore had just kept it for himself. He keeps it with him at all, in Hermione's old extension-charmed bag. Why did he keep The Resurrection Stone? All it ever did was leave an empty aching below his heart. Nowadays, aching comes just from looking at it. He wears it on a necklace around his neck, tucked under his shirt. Why did he win The Elder Wand? He was strong on his own. He knew that. He guiltily keeps the wand in his right arm holster. He's allowed to be scared, right?

Of course, he's sad. Why wouldn't he be? The lingering notes of depression that used to wrap around his pupil had slimmed over the next years. He feels they shouldn't be called years. Years used to be dragging. He was less sad now though, now he was more bored. Bored of muggles, of wizards, of life itself. He's tried passing on, but he was a coward. And immortal.

Death had told him "You may pass on, but not into eternal sleep. Worlds are waiting for you, Harry Potter."

Even as an immortal, Harry had been scared of that. He didn't want to join another war. He didn't want to fight for the loud and far too young. He didn't want to see anybody kind die anymore. So Harry stayed in his Wizarding World. Hidden of course, who knows what crazies would try to do to their Unkillable Golden Boy? Probably label him dark. He stays as long as he can with his family, but then Teddy is a teenager and is asking him why Harry looks like he could be just an older brother rather than a father. And then his wife begins to tentatively ask how Harry never sleeps as much as the rest of them do. And then they all _die_. They all die in front of him while he hides underneath a foolish glamour to "prove" to others that he's ageing.

He isn't as scared anymore really. Besides, anger-fueled sadness would probably feel more filling than his current state of boring sadness. If he gets into another war, so be it. He's strong enough to make sure whoever he meets can be safe. He can be a useful saviour again…

"Death? You can take me now."

* * *

Harry's eyes opened. It was day time. He was on the ground. Cold ground. Hard and bumpy ground. There was screaming around him. Such _loud_ screaming. Sitting up, Harry winced and glanced down at his body. Thankfully, he was clothed. Unthankfully, he was much smaller than he had just been. He was also much younger. He looked up. As he gazed around his surroundings, he took in the dust and the rubble and the fire and the _people_. Something was going on right now. He should probably get up.

Carefully, Harry pushed himself off the ground and stumbled towards the direction everyone else was running. Blinking, Harry steadied himself and breathed in and out calmly. He began walking with the running crowd. They glanced back at him in worry, but not enough worry for them to urge him to hurry.

He heard a woman's voice booming behind him. He turned around, smiling. After all, he'd like to be known as polite.

A lady with flaming red hair was shouting at him, running towards him. She looked concerned, she looked scared.

Harry waved, his eyes still adjusting to this new world.

"Mum?"

He felt something knock against his head. His eyes closed again as his ear met with the cold, broken floor.

* * *

A beeping noise welcomed Harry into the presumed hospital room. The walls were white and he had lain down upon a clean bed. Various metal medical equipment was unprofessionally strung around the room. His eyes felt less stinging now that he wasn't surrounded by smoke. A quiet gasp was heard off to his side.

"You're awake? Can you say anything or blink three times for me?" asked the red-haired lady he saw before his faint. He smiled to himself as he labelled the accent American.

Harry, feeling no pain at all, sat up (much to the lady's chagrin, as she immediately rushed forward to try and slow him.)

"I'm fine, thank you," Harry spoke softly. He was confused. Was this his next great adventure? A spindly teen in America?

She seemed surprised that he wasn't groaning or crying or whatever.

"What's your name miss?" Harry asked, his British lilt coming through like a jackhammer.

The lady looked flustered for a moment and looked around. As if she was searching for someone to help her with him. She turned back to him and kindly smiled,

"My name is Jean, and what is yours?"

Harry grinned back but frowned a little at the returned question. Should he keep his name? He didn't want to. Too much sorrow attached to his name. He's decided on changing it.

"My name is-" Harry's throat clenched and unclenched, "-Harry Potter"

Angrily, Harry knocked at his chest. Why had he said that? He was pretty sure he was about to change his name why-

'You will forever be Harry Potter, my lord' Death's voice whispered through his ears.

Harry hit his chest harder, making himself cough. Jean quickly reached over and grabbed his wrists. He was heavily breathing and he felt so mad and disappointed and so undeniably upset.

"Are you alright? Do you need a cough drop? Did you breathe in a lot back at the fire?"

Harry shook his head no, and willed himself to relax and calm. When his wrists fell limp, Jean let them go. Jean moved Harry's hair back away from his face and worriedly looked into his eyes.

"There's a professor I think you should meet, you look like you need a good talk," she said.

Harry shrugged and nodded.

* * *

As he was led to the "professor's" office, Harry again took in the unfamiliar surroundings. Did he seem to be in a mansion with... lots of kids? Was this an orphanage? The walls were elegant and the doors seemed decorated with metal embellishments. It was almost familiar. Harry felt as though he's seen this sort of thing before.

He glanced at the woman, Jean, as she leads him through the halls. She was perhaps a caretaker or a nurse of this place. She had familiar red hair. Not like his Ginny or his Mother, more like- a character he's seen on television or in a comic. Jean Grey? What world was he in?

Silently, he searched through his memories for some sort of reference. Then, out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a blue man talking to one of the kids. Harry stopped walking and stood there, staring at the anomaly.

At a closer look, Harry found the blue man to have slight fangs and tufts of hair. The man also looked curiously intelligent. The kid the man was talking to looked completely normal for a muggle. It was so strange to see this sort of exchange. It was always weird for Harry when the world changed and wolfsbane-sane werewolves walked through the wizarding streets safely.

Jean nudged him, and he finally snapped out of his stupor.

"Are you alright? The professor is just this way," she said in a politely low voice.

Harry tilted his head, still looking the beast-man.

"Is he allowed to be around like that? Is he under anything?"

The lady frowned and glanced toward his subject of interest. Her eyebrows lifted and she grinned before she looked back towards him and answered, "It's safe here, you get to be what you want to be,"

Harry only nodded in response, doubt tracing his light frown before he mumbled an "oh"

* * *

Finally, they reached a pair of large wooden doors that stood closed. If anything, this world was as dramatic as Hogwarts had once been. The pretty wood had beautiful carvings. It made Harry miss the intricate stone statues of his old school.

Harry entered the office carefully. Before he looked at the supposed professor, Harry took in the knick-knacks and books that were placed around the room. Books with complicated titles and molecular structures decorated the fancy wooden office. It was less quirky than Dumbledore's but somehow more teacher-ly. A gentle 'ahem' brought his attention back to the current situation.

The man sitting behind the desk was bald and old. He was, however, very different from Dumbledore. Instead of a knowing gleam behind half-moon glasses, this man here seemed more confusedly interested and genuinely glad Harry was here.

"Hello! I'd ask for your name, but Jean here has already told me. My name, however, is Charles Xavier! You may refer to me as Professor Xavier if you so please" Charles greeted. Harry ignored the niggling wonder when Jean relayed that information and smiled at the slight accent the man had. When Harry didn't say anything next, Xavier continued,

"Now, you seem too young to be in America all on your own, do you have any family that you need to get back to?" He asked. Jean seemed to take in an expression of shock, ad she interrupted before Harry could get a word in,

"You can't hear him either? His thoughts are all clouded and _gone_ behind a wall-"

"I don't have any family, no. I've just recently decided to… travel," Harry whispered, his old mind trying to process Jean's exclamation.

Xavier nodded in Jean's direction. His face seemed much more serious now. Serious and worried. For what? For him?

"Again, you are too young to be in America all on your own, especially now. As a young mutant, you must take care of yourself. You may stay here if you like, I know that Britain has outlawed is already." Professor Xavier lectured.

Harry's eyes widened in confusion,

"I'm not a mutant, I'm not special in any way-"

"It's fine lad, Jean had brought you to the infirmary but as soon as she laid you down she noticed that the injuries you had sustained had either healed over of healed completely. Furthermore, Jean and I are quite powerful… mind-readers you could say. We have great telepathic abilities. But for some reason, we can't seem to get into that head of yours. We know it's scary, but this is a safe-haven for mutants."

Harry only furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. The collected knowledge he had of mutants and the title 'Professor Xavier' brought memories to the forefront of his mind. Harry's confusion only grew at his revelation,

"X-men? Is that where I am?"

Harry's bewildered question was directed towards Death, and he could feel the ghost of a chuckle wisp by his ears. Then, a more-human chuckle reached his senses.

"That is the name of our 'Hero' team, however, you are currently inside of the X-Mansion. I promise I am not self-obsessed, the students themselves have named it so." Xavier rolled his chair back and out from the desk. His wheel-chair became more apparent now that the man has moved to the side of his desk, looking at Harry.

Harry looked down at the chrome chair and well-dressed man. Harry almost laughed at the thought. X-men being real? Maybe Harry really had gone absolutely mad from his loneliness. Though, this was definitely a different world from his. That means he can start over- _completely over_. At that last thought, Harry smiled widely and genuinely,

"Yeah, I'm a mutant"

* * *

Professor X smiled at the boy in front of him. Harry looked about sixteen, old enough to go to the corner store alone but not enough to be left in America all alone. And with the grey look, Xavier saw in Harry's eyes, Xavier definitely didn't think Harry should be left alone. Xavier dismissed Jean so it was just Xavier and Harry. Clearing his throat, Charles began his questions to try and make more _sense_ of Harry.

"Could you tell us what gifts you have? Don't worry about 'standing out', I promise that whatever abilities you possess won't surprise us too bad." Xavier said although he was wondering about the potential healing gift or telepathic abilities. Harry didn't seem to mind, in fact, he looked almost excited to expose himself in such a way, even in his quiet and subdued stature,

"Well, I heal fairly quickly, as you might've guessed-" Harry briefly wondered how many powers a proper mutant usually has, but at a second thought he didn't really care"- I guess I've got telepathic abilities? I don't like to pry into other's minds and I'm not good at it anyway-"

Xavier's brow pulled together a little at that, a telepath that's naturally good at keeping thoughts in rather than out? Though, Xavier did admit to himself that perhaps most of the telepaths that he's met were all very uniquely individual. Harry continued gently half-mumbling about himself,

"-and I guess I'm really good at getting people to ignore me, but not just ignore-forget? I really do disappear in crowds, they move around me too, they just don't _look,_ " Harry's words seemed to stumble out as he got more into it. That was a good explanation of the muggle-repelling charm right?

Xavier knew exactly what Harry was talking about, and that was definitely a tick in the 'Telepath' box. Because Xavier has forced people to ignore his presence before, however that particular ability didn't work as well on mutants.

"Oh and I guess if I really want, I can change my looks too," Harry then offhanded-ly shot a silent and wandless colour-changing charm at his hair before changing it back to his black, surprising Xavier without realizing it."-I think it's related to my healing? Maybe?"

Xavier was astounded with the smooth colour change. It was far different from Mystique's, it changed without a blue scaly transition and was much quicker. Curiously, Charles leaned forward and asked,

"Is this what you really look like? Do you have a 'true' form as someone might say?"

Confused, Harry straightened his back and thought about what Charles was saying. Inwardly smiling, Harry decided he could mock Death.

"I guess so? It's not very nice-looking but-"

"I promise that I won't hate you for something as small as looks, would you be willing to show me?"

Harry shot Xavier a worried look before smiling and shifting his body to resemble Death,

His skin turned bone white and looked matte and cold against his black hair and emerald eyes. Somehow, the skin looked like it could be knocked on like wood. Really, he didn't look too different from normal. He just looked deathly monochrome and more solid than soft.

Xavier took in this transformation smoothly. Smiling, Xavier complimented Harry and asked if it tired him in any way. He asked if it hurt and if his transformations had some sort of...permanence. Xavier confusedly asked Harry how he looked "Normie" when he was passed out earlier.

Panicking, Harry started spewing what came to the forefront of his mind,

"Well, to be honest, it tires me lots to change and I guess sometimes I get used to looking a certain way and it stays longer. I sleep lots and I think my transformations stay to..protect me? I'm terrified of waking up and someone seeing me like...this. I just- I feel tired _all the time_ and I'm sometimes stuck. I'm stuck with some young and bright face because no one is going to let me move on and nobody likes my young face because I'm a mockery of time itself and-" Harry's voice seemed to grow with hysteria as his topic steered more into his lonely, immortal existence.

Xavier concernedly watched as Harry ranted and changed back to more human skin. Pushing himself forward, Charles came closer to Harry and started shushing the shaking _boy_. However, at a closer look, Harry looked _angry._

"You aren't a mockery of anything Harry, you are yourself and you are special. I'm sorry that you don't want to be special, but I hope you will learn here that being special is okay. You can be however you want when you're here, I'm not going to force you to be anything. You'll find that there are lots of students just like you."

Harry shut himself up. He froze in a surprise of himself. He hadn't ranted like that in a long time. This place was already getting him too emotional. Harry promised to himself that he won't say anything _too real_ ever again.

Now that Harry had finally calmed down, Xavier gently explained living arrangements and handed Harry an official student form to fill out. Charles thought of the best roommate for Harry. Smiling, he wrote the room number and handed it to Harry.

"Remember to introduce yourself to your roommate, he can get very 'territorial' against strangers."

* * *

Harry sat on his newly assigned bed folding clothes that Jean had gifted him. Well, they weren't really gifts-they were donations. As Harry mindlessly folded the pile of greys and blues, his eyes swept over the room.

He hadn't met his roommate yet, but from what he could guess they were a very tidy male. A very small amount of things were left out of the drawers and the closet, and if they were out it was something for everyday use. A hairbrush, a clean jacket on a chair, and various other personal items seemed to stay on his roommate's side of the room. Had Harry taken someone else's place?

Just as he finished folding, the door to the room clicked open and in came one of the strangest people Harry had ever seen. The boy looked tired and worn out, but most importantly he was _blue._

Harry was about to introduce himself, but his roommate let out an accented mumble before he fell. Though he didn't actually fall down. Harry heard a faint poof and saw a cloud of blue mist take over the spot. Then he heard a plop and a satisfied sigh on the bed on the other side of the room.

Harry fidgeted, wondering what he was supposed to do. Clearing his throat, Harry let out a tentative "Hello?"

Tail flicking up wildly, the boy's head shot up and faced Harry's direction. Yellow eyes squinted confusedly into Harry's own. The blue boy let out and awkward sharp-toothed smile. The fangs weren't scary, Harry had honestly seen larger on Remus. Speaking of Remus, Harry was getting the same sort of vibes from Remus from his new roommate.

"Well, Hello! You my new roomie? My name's Kurt, and yours is?" said Kurt. Harry cracked a smile at his accent, it was soft and kind.

"My name's Harry, nice to meet you," He said.

Sitting up properly and pulling a pillow to hug to his chest, Kurt nodded back at Harry and gave him another once-over. His browbones pulled together, and he asked, "What's your mutation? If you're willing to share that is," The lilt and sibilant tones of Kurt's voice relaxed Harry's absurd anxieties. Harry just hasn't lived with someone for a long time.

Harry weighed his options, and then shrugged knowing that he didn't particularly care for minuscule, non-deadly consequences.

He smiled back at Kurt and slowly morphed into his mirror image, but shorter.

Kurt's smile faltered slightly before beaming once again, "We don't discriminate here, and you've got real good ability, Hari." And with that, Harry morphed back to his normal looks and beamed back.

* * *

"I heard there was a new mutant coming here! They appeared in the Irish rebel bombing this week, I hope they weren't part of it. We've got too many angsty normie haters here"

"Don't be rude. Besides, most of those 'normies' hate us anyway- I don't know why you act like having a grudge is such a travesty."

"I just don't want to be like them, discriminating needlessly. Mutants that act out like _that_ just make it all worse for the rest of us,"

"Can we just agree that what those mutants did was wrong but not entirely unjustified?"

"Fine."

Harry stood outside the dining hall door with Kurt, they both could hear the conversations behind the door. Harry breathed in and out calmly. A bunch of kids wasn't too scary and Harry knew he could handle rumours easily. He just didn't want to be immediately cast out.

Kurt sent Harry a reassuring smile, but then Kurt disappeared in a cloud of navy smoke. The door to the dining hall opened from the inside by Kurt. Harry heard a faint "No powers in the hall!" as he entered. Noone seemed to really be paying attention to the new student.

Harry quickly followed Kurt to the food area and picked out a selection of fruit and bread. Harry trailed after Kurt nervously and they both sat down at a far end table. A bunch of other teens was there, and they seemed to be friends with Kurt.

"Hi! My name's Kitty!"

Startled, Harry looked up from his food and found that the friend group was looking expectantly at him. Harry introduced himself, and soon Harry now had the names Pyro, Bobby, Rogue, and Syren.

After those four had stopped discreetly showing off their powers, save for Rogue who had whispered something about it being "not safe enough," they urged him to do the same. Kurt awkwardly laughed and hastily assured Harry that he didn't have to do anything. However, Harry just smiled and presented them with his hand. Slowly, they watched with growing confusion and horror as Harry's skin transitioned from his normal olive to spotty magenta, and finally to neon green. Harry's eyes seemed to be changing between a kaleidoscope of colours and shapes too.

Pyro, or "John" as bobby teased, snorted and gave a simple response,

"What the fuck?"


End file.
